


That's What You Made Me

by sonnet009



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pain, Post-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonnet009/pseuds/sonnet009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noiz and pain have a lot of catching up to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's What You Made Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Big Baby" by Spectrals.

Used to be that Noiz lived on soda, getting through long, sleepless nights at his computer with a doggedly maintained sugar rush. He didn't like to drink coffee when he could avoid it, because then there was no chance of accidentally burning his tongue. 'Course, those were the good old days, back when he didn't immediately drop a cup from his burnt hands — the days before paper cuts and stubbed toes and waking up in agony in the middle of the night because his stupid body fell asleep in a weird position.

One day he had been in a really shitty mood, and Aoba — that fucker — had decided to be relentlessly annoying, hanging around and talking and rubbing Noiz up all the wrong ways. They'd traded words, then insults, then fists, and Aoba got lucky — managed to clock him good, right in the nose. There was blood — kind of a lot of it — but that only registered long after. Because at the time, Noiz was too busy reeling from it, falling backwards in shock. He must've looked pretty messed up, because Aoba quickly dropped the whole pissed off thing and went down with him, asking if he was okay, saying he was sorry.

Noiz wanted to say, "You're not that tough, you cocky shit," because it wasn't like Aoba was some badass gangbanger who just put him in his place. He got in a lucky punch — that was all. Noiz had been in enough fights to know that. It was just that he hadn't been prepared for that feeling — like this was the first time he'd ever _really_ been hit.

Instead of carrying on the fight, Noiz just said, "Man. This shit fucking _hurts_." Aoba had hesitated, and then he started grinning and replied, "Well, _yeah_ ," and then they both stood up together and everything was peaches and cream and rainbow-farting unicorns again.

They had lots of different kinds of sex, but Noiz's favourite had to be the Aoba-wants-to-play kind. That was when Aoba would get this look in his eyes — this sharp, hot, quickly missed look — and then he'd be scraping his fingernails down Noiz's chest, leaving little white trails striping him all the way down, disappearing into his pubic hair. Sometimes Aoba drew blood, but after the first time, it never made him stop.

Sometimes Aoba would bite him — in lots of different places, but a favourite for both of them was when he'd drag his teeth across the soft skin of Noiz's balls. It made him a special kind of vulnerable, and he kind of liked feeling that way if Aoba was the one controlling it.

Every once in a while, Aoba would top. Noiz still wasn't sure if he liked it or not. The first time had been— well. If there had ever been a point where Noiz was just gonna punch that guy in the dick and walk out of his life forever, that had been the closest they ever got. Because Aoba had _lied_ to him. When Noiz fucked him, he'd be all wriggly and moany and he'd make this big show, like, _Noiz. I'm so close. I'm gonna— I'm gonna come!_ like it felt amazing or something.

All Noiz had felt was that little shit's cock trying to split him open, and Aoba just kept saying, "Hang in there. It'll get good soon," until Noiz shoved him off, biting back a scream as that fucking _thing_ scraped its way back out of his asshole. It was all too much. Way too fucking much.

Since then, they'd tried again, and now they could do it to the end and get each other off without anything else but the penetration and Aoba's hand on Noiz's dick. It still felt like being ripped open to Noiz — every time — but when Aoba was panting and grunting in his ear, his hand pumping in time with each thrust, the sharp bite of the pain became blunted with this thick, warm sweetness, and then it was harder to tell what he was feeling because it was like he was just feeling _everything_.

But whatever pain he'd felt in the past didn't come _close_ to what was happening right now. He didn't even know how it'd happened. He'd just woken up and looked over to Aoba's side of the bed. That lazybones was still asleep and breathing softly, hair messy and limbs splayed, one arm and shoulder reaching out of the bed covers, a warm golden-pink under the morning light. Okay now, this shit? This fucking _hurt_. This hurt like burning, like cutting, like dying.

It was more than just stimulus and response. It was affection, and fear, and doubt, and guilt, and a thousand beautiful ugly memories playing endlessly behind Noiz's eyelids. It was a nonsensical, wrenching thing, and he didn't understand where the fuck it had come from or how to make it stop.

Not for the first time, he thought: _Fuck this guy. Fuck him and his Scrap and all of this shit he just dumped on my shoulders. I never asked for this. I never asked for pain like this._

That was when Aoba opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times then smiled sleepily at Noiz, reaching out his arm to pull him in close. And suddenly it was just like the sex — the sharpness that turns sweet.

Noiz let himself be reeled in, then leaned in the rest of the way to bite Aoba's earlobe. Aoba jolted, then retaliated by grabbed Noiz's cheek in his fingers and pinching. They were both laughing — even though it _hurt_  — and suddenly Noiz couldn't remember why he was being such a big baby about it all.


End file.
